


Humanity

by didsomeonesayventus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesayventus/pseuds/didsomeonesayventus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Even the most logical of men must admit human beings were not made to be logical.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humanity

It was merely a matter of time before Xehanort’s heart would realize it wasn’t supposed to be this way. The youth understood he shouldn’t get invested in any of these future events- he would live them in time, after all -but he couldn’t help but wander around with the feeling there was more to this than his elder selves let on. He stuffed his feelings away in dark, shadowed corners just the same with only brief question at the start before eventually doing it out of habit.

He passed the ages between himself and his elders in a numb blur. He jumped timelines and fought with those who were likely to succumb to their “plotting” (grander plans, as he liked to put it) in a span of time that just blended together into a swirl of experiences he didn’t care for.

And yet he was still so stifled. As if there was something squeezing the life out of him with every drone that came out of his mouth, every time he had to hold back a frown or a smile because why should anyone know what he thought? Why should anyone get a glimpse of who he was? Why should he even feel anything for what amounted to a series of duties to check off a list before he had to leave this taste of freedom behind?

Really it felt too long and too short for him to get to where he really had a grand role to play: the corruption of Sora.

He almost did a double take when he finally saw the boy he had heard so much about- the grumbles of how he effortlessly derailed their plans by merely being the stumbling fool he was, the admiration of others who saw his radiance as something worthy of praise instead of scorn, the legend, the child -and it was...

Underwhelming.

The Keyblade’s chosen was a mere fourteen-year-old- at least visually he was surely... Xehanort had to pause and think about the boy’s true age; it had been so long since he had paid attention to the passing of time that he had to devote his thoughts to it to remember how long it had been. Sixteen? Seventeen? Surely the boy was somewhere in there, just behind Xehanort’s own age of...

of...

um...

Light of Kingdom Hearts how old was Xehanort again?

He didn’t need to be scared- he shouldn’t’ve been scared -and yet he was.

...

The second time he saw Sora it was... a better experience. He played his cards just as he should have, and he left the boy gaping in confusion. All according to plan. His dark corridor left him on the balcony above, and he leaned upon it to observe Sora and make sure the boy was starting to slip. At least a falter in those gorgeous blue eyes-

Xehanort’s finger had been trailing along the stone when it abruptly stopped. Golden eyes stopped observing the young man below and stared dead ahead about a millimeter wider than normal. He glanced down to watch Sora unlock the sleeping world’s keyhole, and just before the light vanished he caught the radiance playing off of those soft brown spikes he just needed to hold-

Hearts he was going to _gag_ from these feelings. The softness, the surge of desire, something he could’ve called “affection” rearing its ugly head to demand his attention. Demanding that attention was placed upon that daft fool of a boy. For no reason. No logic. None.

Xehanort turned his back to the railing. His lungs filled with air, holding onto it until his dark skin grew ruddy before he sighed. His gloved hand delicately covered his mouth and a mild cough. He had to stop that, to stop literally holding his breath to make sure his thoughts would stop rushing around for just a moment as a mild restart through lack of air.

He walked through the darkness again to the light of a single ethereal blade, reminding himself that he was here for one simple job, and not these irrational distractions.

...

He kept following Sora as per orders. He kept shoving down laughter into chuckles and kept his frowns and smiles to the corners of his mouth.

“... Put the most precious memories in the back of our minds where they're safe.” He had said. In Sora’s case it was mere hearts who were waiting for a redemption and salvation that wouldn’t come- or at least wouldn’t come easy -but for him...

When Sora had flown out of the ship he had allowed himself a moment to truly smile. His cheeks were sore within seconds, not used to the sensation. He went back to his usual expressionless features.

What was it like to laugh like he could? To yell when upset? To be so lost? To smile so wide? To be so driven one moment and calm the next and easy going another and so mutable, so expressive?

And why was Xehanort yearning for such things?

...

He didn’t approach the boy in the Country of Musketeers. There was no point to it, no logic. Yet he watched from the shadows, closing his eyes and listening to Sora’s voice, glancing over and watching his lips move, his eyes watching everything with wonder like a perfect summer sky.

Xehanort left.

His heart stayed.

...

When Sora finally broke, the plan seemed to unravel. Hearing that Sora’s heart would succumb to darkness and how it would happen was one thing, but witnessing it was another. Once upon a time Xehanort supposed he would have been horrified- and he was, but not for the reason one would think.

He just... didn’t care.

What was done was done. He wouldn’t remember it. And yet right at his feet a boy his age was... well he wasn’t dying, of course he wasn’t ~~he was~~ he was just being put on a shelf to make room for something much more useful. Useful. Practical. Logical.

Yes, this was logical. Even with the demanding “What have you done?”, even with the disparaging, disgusted glares, this was what the worlds needed. They needed it.

They needed those sweet, stunning, beautiful blue eyes to turn to burnished gold.

They did.

...

Xehanort’s favorite spot was on the grass just outside of Master Yen Sid’s tower, just below the eight-pointed star window. The one where he could hear laughter and cries and fear and anger and surprise and emotion.

He tried to make the expressions he heard, tried to embrace the irrationality of all he heard pour from that window. He honest to god tried to grasp at the straws of what was left of his heart. He tried to feel what they felt and was left with coldness and self-mockery.

This was childish. He was more than this.

And yet his heart ached for the desire to feel again.

...

He was lucky to find it. A black shirt with a v-neck collar that smelled like sea-salt and sweat and citrus deodorant surely used to cover that stench up. Discarded on some world while laughter echoed from somewhere down the river.

Surely no one would miss it? Especially if those shallow fairies could make the boy another. It was a logical expectation that he could get another and wouldn’t miss this one.

Xehanort clutched it and let the scent burn itself into his nostrils.

It smelled like the whole sensation of irrationality and emotion that he couldn’t feel on his own anymore. Something that filled the chasm in his heart that had been cleaved into him through the years.

...

He wouldn’t allow himself to do this. At least he wouldn’t have some unknowable time ago.

There was chaos and metal meeting metal and cries and explosions and lights and tinkling and war going on all around him but here he was, staring, waiting. The light of Kingdom Hearts upon his back. The ground pushing into his sore feet. A point of blue energy at his breast.

This was an unjustifiable extreme.

Xehanort looked up to see all these people, outnumbered, weary from years of torment, and still giving their lives, fighting an uphill battle, for everything and everyone they loved. With eyes full of tears and voices grating with rage and light shining on with undeniable hope.

They were the true heroes.

_He_ was a hero, the boy in the middle of it all and trying to strike down the ancient master. Soft brown spikes that demanded to be held that occasionally glinted gold in the light. Strong arms that gave blessings in the form of hugs and judgement with every strike. Blue eyes with the strength of storms but the light of the sun. A voice of peace with cries of war. A lion’s heart that pounded within his chest as it called upon all the love and courage it held- enough to fill all the worlds -to protect what truly mattered.

Sora was a hero. 

Sora was beautiful.

Sora would never be his.

And Sora would likely never know how he spurred on the most irrational decision of Xehanort’s young life.

**Author's Note:**

> I think about this brat more than I should.
> 
> also don't listen to Adele's "Hello" while thinking about all this.
> 
> _don't._


End file.
